Strings Entwined

It’s like flash photography outside as I peer through the car window. Quick, sharp stripes of thunderbolts pierce the sky, followed by loud, rumbling cackles of God’s wrath. It had been a beautiful day this morning. Shocking how things change so suddenly (pun intended). Now, it’s pouring cats and dogs, and what was supposed to be a sweet, calm day has turned into a mess. All thanks to Liam.

The boy I had loved. The boy I had clicked with instantly. Had. All in the past now. I sigh, looking out at the strangely aesthetic storm outside, the kind of backstory you’d see in a movie. Why’d I pick today, of all days, for this risky mission? I hadn’t thought it through, clearly. I’d gotten Liam’s address from my friend, and while it wasn’t exactly stalking, it was urgent. But I can’t deny the awkwardness of showing up uninvited. Hey, Liam. I’m not a stalker or anything, but I just happen to be standing on your doorstep in the middle of a storm. Hilarious. If this weren’t such a ghastly situation, I might laugh.

“We’re here,” my Uber driver says, glancing at me impatiently. She’s in a hurry to leave, clearly wanting to avoid getting stuck in the downpour. I thank her and rush toward the cover of Liam’s porch.

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the door. Panic flares in me—memories of the same feeling I get before performing on stage. Anxiety buzzing with scattered thoughts. Breathe in, breathe out, I tell myself. If he’s not home, I can take refuge at a nearby café until the storm clears. Simple plan.

Before I can overthink it, I knock using the secret signal we came up with months ago: one strong beat, one weak. Memories crash into me like the storm outside.

“Liam?” I peeked through the window of my room back then. “Why are you here?”

“To rehearse.” He grinned. “I know you hate practicing, so I figured if you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”

“What if you were a serial killer?” I joked.

“Then you’d get killed by my deadly violin bow.” He smirked.

It was moments like that when I felt closest to him. Moments like now, standing outside his door, wondering if any of it still mattered.

The door opens, and there he is. His voice is the first thing that hits me. “Seaweed.” The nickname he insisted on calling me, no matter how much I hated it. I freeze, soaked to the bone, my hair plastered to my face. I’m sure I look like a drowned cat. Meanwhile, Liam looks almost the same—his messy hair, that playful glint in his electric blue eyes, and his unfairly tall frame. His hair’s a little longer now, and he’s grown even taller, but he’s still him.

“Are you going to stand there all night, or come in before the lightning strikes?” He grins, stepping aside as thunder cracks behind me. I shuffle in awkwardly, hyperaware of his presence. My wet shoes squeak against the floor as I shiver, though not entirely from the cold.

“Go to the guest room,” Liam says. “There’s a shower and towels. You’ll catch a cold otherwise.” His tone is steady, but I can feel the tension between us crackling like static electricity. I want to punch him—not really, but enough to get a reaction. How can he act so calm, like nothing happened? It’s been months since we last spoke, since he ghosted me without explanation.

But I’m not about to get sick over a stupid boy. I head to the guest room, take a hot shower, and change into baggy clothes that smell faintly of his house. Comforting, but also frustrating.

When I return, Liam’s sitting on the couch, strumming his guitar softly. His eyes are half-closed, lost in the music, and the sight stirs something deep in me. His parents had forced him to pursue classical violin, but he always preferred the freedom of the guitar. It’s one of the reasons we connected. Both of us were trapped by our parents’ expectations.

I sit beside him, and our eyes meet. There’s an electric spark, like lightning.

The silence between us becomes unbearable. “Are you seriously just going to sit there like everything’s fine?” My voice cracks slightly, betraying my frustration.

Liam’s phone buzzes, and my heart seizes when I see the screen light up. It’s a picture of him with a girl—pretty, brunette, and smiling as he wraps his arm around her. Not me.

“That’s Rose. My girlfriend,” he says quietly, clearing his throat.

“Oh.” I flinch, but try to play it cool. “How’d you meet her?” I hate how shaky my voice sounds.

“At a performance.” He avoids my gaze, and suddenly, the room feels suffocating.

“I think I should go,” I say, standing up. My throat burns, but I won’t let him see me break.

He grabs my arm gently. “The storm’s not letting up. You’re stuck here for now.” His words sting, but I sit back down, defeated.

“Why are you here, Seaweed?” His voice is soft now, almost tender.

I swallow my pride. “I wanted to ask if you’d still perform with me, for the Winter Ball. We already know the piece. I thought…” I trail off, regretting everything.

His eyes widen. “What do you mean, ‘one last time’? I’m still your friend.”

I laugh bitterly. “Some friend. You ghosted me, Liam. Disappeared without a word.”

He exhales, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry. My parents found out I’d spent part of my college fund on a guitar. They took my phone, threatened me, and cut me off from everyone. I didn’t know how to explain it without making things worse.”

I bite my lip. “You could’ve written me a letter.” The pain lingers, but I understand, even if I don’t fully forgive him.

“Yeah, probably.” He chuckles softly. “My handwriting’s terrible, though.”

I sigh, wiping my eyes. “You hurt me, Liam.”

“I know. And I’ll make it up to you.” He leans forward. “I’ll perform with you at the Winter Ball—on one condition.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“That it won’t be the last time.” His words are simple but hit me like a tidal wave.

My cheeks flush, but I nod. “Deal.” We link pinkies, just like we used to.

The Night of the Winter Ball:

The music hums softly as I adjust the strap of my sparkling beige gown in the mirror. The seashell necklace Liam gave me long ago rests coolly against my skin, grounding me. Tonight is the Winter Ball, and after weeks of practice, we’re finally here. I glance at my reflection, trying to push away the nerves. Liam and I will perform like we always do: effortlessly. I want it to be perfect, even if part of me knows nothing ever really is.

As I make my way to the backstage area, I pause by an alcove, hearing hushed voices. Liam’s voice, low and soothing, carries through the narrow hall. I peek around the corner and my breath catches. Rose is standing with him, her mascara smudged and tears streaking down her cheeks. Liam’s hands rest gently on her shoulders, and I can’t help but feel the sharp twist in my gut.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rose’s voice cracks, and it’s like thunder splitting the air. “Why didn’t you tell me you were still in love with her?”

My heart plummets. What is she talking about? I press myself against the wall, my fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

“Rose—” Liam sighs, his voice strained. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Her words are heavy, like the weight of the storm I once stood in on his porch. “I knew you were distant, but I thought maybe it was the stress of performing. I didn’t think you were spending all this time with her because you—” She pauses, choking on her words. “Because you’re still in love with her.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to breathe. My legs feel weak, like I might collapse right here in the hallway. I shouldn’t be listening, but I can’t tear myself away.

“It’s not that simple,” Liam says softly, and I can hear the remorse in his voice. “I thought I had moved on, Rose. But being around Sea again, rehearsing with her, it brought everything back.”

Everything stops. My heart. My breath. Time itself. He said it. He admitted it.

Rose lets out a bitter laugh. “I should’ve seen this coming. You talk about her all the time. Even when we’re alone, you look like you’re somewhere else.” She wipes her tears, sniffling. “She’s your best friend, right? But she’s more than that, isn’t she?”

Liam doesn’t respond right away, and the silence is louder than any words he could say.

“I love you, Rose,” he finally says, and my heart breaks all over again. “But not the way you deserve. Not completely.”

Rose takes a step back, her eyes glossy. “At least you’re honest. I can’t hate you for that.” She shakes her head, sadness etched into her features. “Good luck with her, Liam.”

With that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving him standing there, defeated. I press myself tighter against the wall, praying he won’t see me. But he does. His eyes lift, locking with mine. I don’t have time to move, to pretend I wasn’t listening.

“Seaweed.” His voice is a whisper.

I don’t know what to say. My mind races, but no words come out. He just told his girlfriend he’s still in love with me. It’s too much to process. So I do the only thing I can: I run.

I run past the dressing room, past the stage crew, and burst through the side door into the cold night air. Snowflakes swirl around me, sticking to my hair and eyelashes. My heels sink into the snow as I walk down the path behind the venue, trying to breathe through the chaos in my chest.

“Seaweed, wait!” His voice cuts through the night. I don’t stop. I can’t. But Liam’s faster, and within seconds, he grabs my arm gently, spinning me around to face him.

“You heard everything, didn’t you?” His eyes are filled with guilt and something else—something that looks too much like hope.

“I shouldn’t have.” My voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t care that you heard.” His hand tightens slightly on mine. “I care about what you think.”

I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. “This is too much, Liam. I don’t even know what to think right now. You ghosted me for months. You have a girlfriend—or you did. And now you’re telling me you still have feelings for me? How am I supposed to process that?”

He steps closer, his breath visible in the cold air between us. “I was scared. I’m still scared. But seeing you again reminded me of everything I’ve ever wanted, and I know I can’t lose you again.”

“You already did, Liam.” My voice breaks, and a tear slips down my cheek. “You hurt me when you left. You didn’t just leave my life—you left me doubting everything we ever had. And now you expect me to believe that everything’s fine?”

He looks down, guilt flashing across his face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. But I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.” His hand brushes against my cheek, wiping away my tear. “I’m not perfect. I’m reckless, and I make stupid mistakes. But I love you, Seaweed. I always have.”

The world falls silent except for the sound of snow crunching beneath us. I don’t know if I can trust him. But the ache in my chest tells me that I want to.

“Then prove it,” I whisper. “Don’t just say it. Show me.”

A small, hopeful smile tugs at his lips. “I will. Starting with our performance tonight.”

Onstage, minutes later:

As we take our places, the soft hum of the audience dies down. Liam stands beside me, his fingers brushing mine briefly before he lifts his violin. The first note resonates through the room, and I close my eyes, letting the music carry me. We’re perfectly in sync, like no time has passed at all.

For the first time in months, I don’t feel angry or hurt. I feel whole.

When the final note fades, I turn to him, and he’s already looking at me. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. This isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning.

“Seaweed,” he whispers, stepping closer as the applause thunders around us. “You still remember what I said to you? That you’re more than just Seaweed to me.” His voice shakes slightly, but he doesn’t look away. “You’re the most precious sea jewels of the ocean. The most precious seashells. That’s why I bought the necklace for you. You’re everything to me.”

My breath catches, and for a moment, the world blurs around us. The only thing that exists is Liam.

I touch the seashell pendant resting against my collarbone, my heart thudding beneath it. “I remember.” My voice is soft, but he hears it. He always hears me. “I didn’t forget.”

His hand cups my cheek, warm and steady. “Then let me prove it every day, starting now.”

Tears well in my eyes, but this time they’re happy tears. “Okay.”

We stay there for a moment, suspended in time, as the crowd continues to cheer. Whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together.

And for the first time in a long time, I believe in us.